


This wishing heart of mine

by myideaofbeautiful



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Merlin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myideaofbeautiful/pseuds/myideaofbeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beige vase went first. Flying through the air before connecting with the grey stone. As the hateful pieces splintered littering the floor, Arthur felt a few moments of satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This wishing heart of mine

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed  
> The characters doesn't belong to me and I make no profit from this.  
> Enjoy!

The castle walls radiates cold and his steps echo as he walks down the hall towards his room. The cold wind whips through the cracks and open windows and goose bumps rise on Arthur’s flesh. The winter is going to be cold, if the old townspeople’s whispering wasn’t warning enough the foreboding clouds and icy air spoke for itself.

When he reached his room a warm light filtered through underneath the dark wood. Arthur stands a moment watching the yellow line before entering. The old door creaked and Arthur ignored yet another of Merlin’s unfinished, unattended tasks.

The room was unnaturally tidy, stiff and formal and Arthur found himself thinking about a young boy, excited and inventive and adventurous with only his father’s stern gaze keeping him from scratching where the formal tunic was irritating his skin. Arthur stared at the room and felt the same itch that young boy did. An itch that needed to be scratched.

The beige vase went first. Flying through the air before connecting with the grey stone. As the hateful pieces splintered littering the floor, Arthur felt a few moments of satisfaction. The perfect picture was ruined. A strange desperation clawed in Arthur chest, fighting to break free just as it did a few moments ago.

 Chairs were kicked over,

Pitchers were thrown against the wall,

And with one sweep the tray of cold meats and fruits littered the ground.

Arthur’s knees buckled as his strength left him and he fell with his elbows on the unforgiving wood, stone under his knees quickly seeping through his breeches. His knees pained from the impact but Arthur felt numb except for the clawing in his lungs as he sees Merlin’s body fall lifelessly to the ground, arrow piercing his chest and colouring his already red tunic a darker shade than Arthur ever wished to see.

Arthur’s hands scrape over the table, he wishes for something to dull this, to rival the bleeding of his heart. He tries to think, to move, to try something but his vision is blurry and his tears taste like salt. The clawing finally broke free and harsh sobs escaped his mouth as he laid his head against the table. Body trembling with sorrow.

Seconds bled into eternity as Arthur’s trembling slowly subsided till it totally stopped.

The clawing had decreased but it stays, a low humming dulled by a moments release. The candle light flickers as Arthur watches it.

His knees popped, pins and needles firing through his legs as he finally pushes himself up and turns towards the bed. The bedding is new, and the left side of the bed empty. Instead of curling up under the blankets searching and searching for the smell of herbs and spice that would have been replaced with soap and cotton, Arthur heads towards the door, glass and destruction crunching under his feet.

The rest is a blur as Arthur follows the faded beating.

Thump-thump

 

Thump-thump

 

Thump-thump

 

Thump-thump

 

Until he sees him through the crack of the ill closer door. 

Arthur slowly opens it, eyes never straying from the familiar figure. Arthur stops next to the bed, his eyes rests on the chest. The movement is shallow and laboured but there’s movement and that all he could ask for.

Merlin’s skin is a deathly pale, the blue of his veins like tree roots decorating his skin. His skin is clammy and his mouth open, Arthur shivers as he remembers the screams and moans that escaped between those lips, until unconsciousness, blessed unconsciousness, set in. But even that couldn’t keep the pitiful whimpers from escaping. He’s quiet now, no sound except Gaius’s snoring and Arthur’s own heartbeat.

Arthur lightly strokes over Merlin’s cheek, looking into those closed eyes and wishing they would open, that they would sparkle with mirth and look with love.

Arthur chuckled humourless.

He’d been wishing a lot lately.

When he bends down he kisses Merlin’s eyelids one at a time before moving to his forehead, on the tip of his nose and lastly his lips. They’re dry and cracked, a sharp contrast to his soaked forehead.

Arthur slips off his boots and his shirt before carefully lifting the covers and laying down on the small bed. He cushion his head on his arm while taking Merlin’s hand in the other. As he stares at Merlin he feels the buzzing under his skin. It’s golden and breath-taking and needed.

Minutes drift off into hours and hours back to seconds. And as the first bird raises its head and sings into the crisp morning air, Merlin’s right hand’s grip tightens,

And Arthur smiles.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still looking for someone to beta my work, so if your interested please let me know.  
> I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading.


End file.
